


Savage

by merryfortune



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! VRAINS
Genre: BDSM, Blowjobs, Choking, Cock & Ball Torture, Fingering, M/M, Minor drug references, Rough Sex, Sex Toys, Slight Foot Fetish, Slight Shoe Fetish, Title Subject to Change, Vibrators
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-09
Updated: 2018-12-09
Packaged: 2019-09-15 05:53:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16927683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merryfortune/pseuds/merryfortune
Summary: If there was anywhere that Kengo wanted to be, it was not beneath the latex boot belonging to Revolver but alas, that was exactly where he was.





	Savage

   If there was anywhere that Kengo wanted to be, it was not beneath the latex boot belonging to Revolver but alas, that was exactly where he was.

   In light of recent revelations, Kengo had come to realise that he was just small fry in the grander schemes of cyber terrorism and Lost Incidents. Lightning had been right. He was just the distraction; the easily dealt with in this war between humanity and artificial intelligence.

   These revelations were infuriating. Which was probably why he was here, exactly as he was, beneath Revolver’s boot because Revolver had attempted to help him save face but Kengo had been hasty. Arrogant. So now, he was being punished and Kengo detested it, as strangely gratifying as it had come to be.

   Between his duels with Revolver and Lightning, Kengo had done a little research. He was coming to think he was too headstrong. He was too overcome with hatred and that spurred him unto short-sighted decisions. After all, he had inquired perhaps a touch too late into why Sol Tech was interested in the Ignis to begin with but in his defence, he was a bounty hunter and the dialogues between client and bounty hunter were rarely open. Regardless, he had made too many false steps and his ego was more than a little bruised having had lost to adolescents like the likes of Playmaker and Revolver. So now, he was going to tread more cautiously.

   So, he delved into the past of the Knights of Hanoi and learned what he could. Prior to three months ago, they were a mysterious group and now, Kengo understood that they were some sort of dooms day cult. They had wanted to destroy the internet, and consequently all artificial intelligence, before the Ignis were given the chance to do the exact same unto them. Kengo had mixed feelings towards the research that he had done. He thought they had carried out their mission without any finesse at all so Kengo didn’t exactly respect that. He liked the idea of ridding the world of artificial intelligence, but surely there were less insane methods on how to go about such a glorious goal. However, finally, there was some element to the Knights of Hanoi which he could respect and that was the aesthetic conduct that Revolver had carried himself with.

   Prior to resurfacing, Revolver had been a masked entity with inhuman eyes. His identity had been concealed. Kengo was of a similar strain of thought. But now, Revolver seemed to have devolved from such a pattern of thought. A shame. He looked more handsome behind the glass, distorted and slightly inhuman, than he did in a way which some might consider conventionally attractive.

   Regardless, as Kengo knelt before him right now, he could relish the thought of returning to the sanctity of privacy. He had no idea what Revolver was thinking behind his mask: full-facial and reminiscent of what he had once prowled the Link VRAINS in. Kengo could enjoy it but there were other disruptions to such an aesthetic; the snowy white hair and, perhaps more pressingly, the corset he had donned for the scene. It was embarrassing, but true and now Kengo was taking upon all the slings and arrows that came the admittance that he was hasty. And Revolver was likely relishing every punishment that Kengo would permit unto his body.

   Revolver knew exactly how he wanted to punish Kengo from the moment that he had strutted into the space which had been allocated as the dungeon. He carried himself with a dominatrix-like persona, accentuated by the scarlet high heeled boots he wore which ate his skin up until his thighs. But they did little for his chastity; his corset was a strange garment which covered his chest rather than his crotch. His erect penis was rather happily on display, between strips of leather tightly digging in around his pelvis.

   He chuckled as he found his sub waiting for him. In one hand, he held onto a bag, branded with a sex store logo, and the other, he brandished a riding crop. His fingers were clasped delicately around the black leather grip of his riding crop and his face was mostly unseen beneath the sheen of a domino mask which had a heavy veil pinned to it, covering his mouth. He also wore a pair of earrings: long, dangling, and crystalline. Every so often, when he moved his head, the mask seemed to glimmer like the inky night sky and his earrings would sparkle in the dim light too. It was alluring.

   Revolver set to work once he had finished preening like a peacock. After all, his unreadable face hid all his ideas and he wanted them to manifest immediately. He began by stripping Kengo of his creature comforts. He had him strip but Revolver didn’t let him take off his blouse; only his jacket and jeans. Afterwards, Revolver went straight for that which Kengo valued most about his appearance and that was, of course, his ways of concealing his face. Revolver removed those personally. He unwound Kengo’s scarf from around his neck and gently took his glasses his glasses.

   There was a quiet fury in his eyes, but Kengo played along with Revolver’s playful demands of him. Revolver smiled, momentarily, underneath the glossy fabric of his veil when Kengo attempted to hide eyes behind the lavender lengths of his fringe but Revolver stopped him. Revolver pinned back Kengo’s hair: unfanciful, messy, and revealing of every particle of skin before his hairline. Revolver was careful, delicate with Kengo, but his mouth betrayed such intimacy. He was snarky about it; teasing and taunting Kengo.

   Kengo listened bitterly. Revolver’s voice was like silken venom. Pleasant but scathing. And to prevent Kengo from petulantly removing the pins from his hair, Revolver had him bound in restraints. He had brought the best with him. Revolver forced Kengo to his knees and then had him restrained. The restraints were firm and leathery. They kept Kengo’s ankles together, tightly, but permitted his knees to be slightly apart, his cock was limp but the rest of his body taut.

   Revolver held Kengo’s hand, admired it clinically as though it were not flesh and bone. As though he were inspected the mechanical prosthetic Kengo used and had not been permitted to bring into the dungeon.

   Revolver kissed Kengo’s knuckles curtly and through the fabric of his veil. Kengo stirred, unamused and he felt revolver’s breath on his skin as he rhetorically mused: “And what shall we do with this?”

  His question was answerless as he soon moved on from such musing. He squeezed Kengo’s hand until his fingers when white, until his nails were crescent echoes upon his skin, and then he had it bound behind Kengo’s back. Soon, Kengo’s wrist and the restraints on his ankle were all part of one contraption. He writhed, slightly, and realised his movements were sealed off. He was partially certain that if need be, he could launch himself from kneeling and headbutt Revolver but that wasn’t necessary. Yet.

   Revolver then took his hanging sleeve and inspected it. He peeked up the fabric.

   “Don’t.” Kengo snapped at him but Revolver took no heed.

   He glanced up and saw the burn scars which remained but the stump itself was neat. All amputations were. Revolver ceased his unpermitted glances and knotted the sleeve for him. As closely and tightly to Kengo’s stump as he could. Kengo growled and cast a ferocious look at Revolver but all it did was rile him up further. His cock remained pert between the leather and even twitched.

   Revolver picked up his riding crop and he propped it up beneath Kengo’s chin. He forced him to look up at him as Revolver rose to his full height. A snarly smile crossed his face and behind the slits of his mask, his eyes were utterly alight with a cruel lust.

   “Are you ready to begin?” he asked.

   Kengo gave no reply. His expression was steely as he glared at Revolver.

   Revolver removed the riding crop from beneath Kengo’s chin and picked up the bag he had brought with him. He strutted around until he was directly behind Kengo. Kengo struggled, slightly. His legs moved slightly, and his arm pumped but to little avail. He twisted around so he could at least glimpse what Revolver was doing behind him.

   “It’s supposed to be a surprise.” Revolver growled.

   He pushed Kengo’s straying eyes away from him with the butt of his riding crop. Kengo huffed and forced himself to look ahead whilst he felt Revolver’s fingers drift dangerously close to his anus. Revolver hefted his leg and Kengo yelped as he felt the heel on his back. Revolver put pressure on him and soon, Kengo was nose to the floor.

   Kengo listened to the bag rustle as Revolver took what he wanted out of it. Kengo huffed. He disliked the suspense, even as Revolver toyed with him. Teasing him with the possibility before solidifying it.

   Revolver readied what he wanted. He clicked on the device and the vibrator responded in his hand. He smiled. The buzz was decent, but likely because it was only on the lowest setting. He would experiment with the more palatable, higher settings later once it was lodged inside of Kengo’s anal cavity but first, he had to be prepared. Revolver wasn’t entirely cruel, after all.

   He squeezed out some lube from the bottle onto his fingers. It was non-scented and colourless. A touch boring, perhaps but it would do the job. Then, Revolver stuck his fingers, unceremoniously, up Kengo’s ass.

   Kengo grunted. His body stiffened at Revolver’s touch. He spared him no courtesy. He was rough as he thrusted his fingers into Kengo’s anus, massaging him out. Kengo choked on his voice as he was forced to take every thrust inside of him. All whilst the cold lube dripped through him, spread with Revolver’s hand movements which were full and unabashed.

   Soon, Revolver was satisfied, and he applied lubricant to the vibrator. He glanced between it and it the place he desired it to be before simply pushing it up into Kengo’s anus. Kengo writhed as Revolver did so. Cussed him out, as well as there was little grace to be had.

   Kengo breathed deeply as he felt the object settle inside of him. He tried to assess what he felt. It was somewhat small and egg-shaped. It was cold, but that might just be because of the lubricant that Revolver had graciously coated it with, though there wasn’t enough. Kengo felt himself clamp onto it subconsciously.

   Revolver whistled. “How does it feel?”

   “Fuck you.” Kengo replied.

   “Excellent.” Revolver said, and he got up.

   He strode back to Kengo’s front. Kengo was vaguely impressed to see that Revolver’s erection was maintained. He must have popped some sort of pill before entering the dungeon; Kengo refused to believe that youth alone sustained it. Especially given that Revolver was barely a decade younger than him.

   “You’ll love it even more in a moment.” Revolver said.

   In one hand, he twirled the riding crop like a baton. In the other, he brandished some sort of remote he had hidden and recurred through sleight of hand. Kengo licked his lips.

   “I’m sure.” he said through heavied breaths.

   Revolver’s tongue flicked along his mouth, mischievous, whilst his thumb hovered over the switch briefly. He felt Kengo’s eyes pin-point over his knuckles, as the switch hovered between off and on. Then, it finally fell one way and the device that it was linked to buzzed.

   Kengo’s eyes widened. The buzz was loud. Louder inside his head than outside of it. His cheeks flushed, and his toes curled. His fingers flexed. He took a deep breath that caused his chest to swell. Revolver watched and relished all these little reactions that Kengo was scrambling to hide. Would do anything for Revolver to have not seen them but he had, and they were all for him.

   “Oh? Did you like that?” revolver asked, and he switched it off.

   Kengo panted. There was a peculiar look in his grey-lilac eyes though; open and longing yet distinctly reviling of the pleasure.

   “I asked a question, you mongrel. Answer me.” Revolver reiterated himself when he realised that Kengo was only going to shoot him a steely glare.

   “Yes.” Kengo replied, succinct and cutting.

   “Good.” Revolver said, and he rewarded Kengo for his answer, however brief and sardonic.

   He flicked the switch and quickly placed it on its second setting. Kengo was surprised, again. The intensity of the buzz went deeper and louder. It rattled his core and he could just melt into the cicada-like rhythm of it. His dick slowly became erect. It throbbed, and veins became more apparent along it. Kengo seemed to be responding very well to the off-and-on again stimuli. Revolver smiled. That was exactly what he wanted to see of his anything but dear and demure sub.

   Kengo’s larynx bobbed in his throat. He tried to suppress himself, but his arousal was more than apparent. He hated it. He hated that, right now, he was nothing but Revolver’s toy. He didn’t want to give him the satisfaction but Kengo eyed the remote and he eyed the riding crop. Revolver had more than enough resources to force Kengo to submit. He swallowed, and he felt his heart pound in time with the buzzing of the vibrator.

   It felt good. It felt really good. He closed his eyes to it and then nothing. He moaned. Revolver had turned it off. He turned off Kengo, but his erection did not drag. His eyes opened, and he was awakened to the soundless, dark world of their dungeon.

   “We’re going to play a little game…” Revolver teased, and he stuck the remote underneath the tight top of his corset, it poked out almost like a breast beneath the leather he was all done up in. “The rules are very simple.”

   As Revolver spoke, he fidgeted with the end of his riding crop. He picked off the end of it and Kengo realised that the loop strap wasn’t a strap at all but merely a flourish that Revolver had added.

   “You just have to watch me very closely and very carefully,” he explained and continued to mindlessly pick at the strap.

   Kengo watched as Revolver opened it up from a band until it was a ball. He swallowed. Kengo was beginning to suspect that he knew exactly the true objective of this game was. His eyes darted back up to Revolver.

   “All you have to do, Kengo,” Revolver spoke his name like it was poison and Kengo loathed it “is keep your eye on the prize. If you so much as flinch, you will get three lashings.”

   He was right. Kengo quickly realised. Cock and ball torture by proxy.

   “I’m sure you’ll be able to handle it.” Revolver said.

   Revolver then proceeded to show more care and gentleness to his little toy than he had to Kengo throughout the entire session. There was a glimmer in his eyes and he checked Kengo’s line of vision. It was pointed directly at the little black leather ball. Revolver was satisfied with that, so he carefully placed the stick of his high heel atop the ball. It squished slightly but he was barely touching it.

   Kengo’s toes curled and uncurled. His brows knitted together as he watched Revolver toy with the ball in front of him. Forcing him to think of it as his own. That things could be worse. That the sharp stick of Revolver’s red boots could be digging into his own flesh rather than the leather he was forcing himself to associate with.

   The ball squished and squeezed beneath the pressure Revolver applied to it. Kengo swallowed. A bead of sweat dripped down his forehead. His mind kept drifting elsewhere and he felt like he wasn’t allowed to blink; to allow himself to refresh his thoughts. He wanted to look anywhere else but there. Not even because again, that was supposed to be his dick or testicle by proxy but because simply focusing on particular spot, zoning in on it and not allowed to glance elsewhere, was boring.

   Revolver clicked his tongue. His movements, up and down and letting the ball roll underneath the sole of his foot, were repetitive but he had taken some notice of Kengo’s reactions. He relished them, however small they were but he wanted something more. Something bigger. So, Revolver ceased his game, as gratifying as it had been thus far.

   So, he upped the ante. Revolver removed the remote from where he had stuffed it down his corset and kissed it. Kengo noticed; his brow twitched but his eyes remained firmly planted beneath Revolver’s heel. Revolver turned it on and he flicked it to the second setting. Kengo hissed and grunted as the sound of the vibrator permeated the whole of the once soundless dungeon.

   Kengo swallowed. More beads of sweat dripped down his face and he continued to stare as stubbornly as he could at Revolver’s heel. Revolver was pleased that his sub hadn’t shown any defiance, but he was expecting it soon. Revolver was certain Kengo would lose this little game he had prepared. Revolver continued to toy with the ball underneath his heel.

   He let the ball roll across the flat of his sole. He pressed down on his toes and smiled. Revolver thumbed over the switches on his little remote. Kengo’s eyes flicked up for the briefest second and back unto the post of Revolver’s high heels. Simultaneously, Revolver changed the setting to its highest mode and stomped down.

   The ball burst. The vibrator operated on its most fearsome setting. Revolver’s heel pierced through it and it deflated immediately. Kengo grimaced as his whole body felt torn asunder by the powerful, little device lodged up his ass. He flinched. He panted: his chest rising and falling rapidly, and he drooled as the buzz hurt him so much that it was pleasurable.

   As for the ball, there wasn’t a squeak or squeal like a burst balloon as Revolver popped it. Kengo forced himself to watch as Revolver ground his heel against the leather anyway. That produced a long, drawn-out squeak which knotted his stomach. His cock twitched, and his body felt hot, and he was useless before his orgasm.

   He ejaculated. A hot jet of cum burst from his slit. The moan it elicited from Kengo was loud and lewd. Embarrassingly so and he glanced away from Revolver as he turned off the vibrator. Kengo swallowed. His eyes carelessly, curiously, straying back unto Revolver as the white of his semen stained strikingly against the scarlet leather of the boots Revolver ever so proudly wore.

   Revolver stepped off the leather ball. He licked his lips and he bent down, slowly, and picked it up. He didn’t seem to mind that his boots were now dirty; he seemed to be ignoring that little fact. As he picked up the ball, it had reverted to its more looped form as a strap. He reattached it to his riding crop. His movements were gradual and Kengo panted. His gaze anywhere but unto Revolver’s visage. Revolver rather disliked that.

   Revolver tittered, almost pleasantly, as he brandished his riding crop. He drew in close to Kengo and Kengo looked up at him. The veil, gauzy and glitzy, did well to disguise most of Revolver’s lust but his rather flagrant erection betrayed all mystique that his upper body held.

   “You broke the rules. You lost the game.” Revolver said.

   “I know.” Kengo replied. “Go ahead. Punish me.”

   “With pleasure.” Revolver said as he fingered the tip of his riding crop.

    Kengo steeled himself as Revolver finally readied his riding crop. The first lash was on his right thigh. Kengo swallowed and he glanced down. An elongated pink mark already across his skin. Revolver briefly admired his work before deciding that there was more beauty in symmetry. Thus, Kengo suffered the second lash and that resulted in another pink mark to match.

   Kengo swallowed. Revolver sized him and stared him down. There was something revoltingly attractive in his demeanour. His eyes all but unseen and yet his arousal so apparent. The contradiction was appealing, Kengo found – likely against his will as his cock began to harden. As his will began to harden as he expected the third lash that Revolver had all but promised him.

   He expected it to be across his chest. For symmetry; to balance the marks on his legs. Or, possibly, across his face. Revolver was cruel and callous after all. Kengo knew that but no, Revolver’s third strike was not so high upon Kengo’s body. Instead, he gave a quick – and arguably gentler than the prior two – lash to Kengo’s cock.

   Kengo screamed. His spittle flew as he was lashed in a rather sensitive area. Revolver laughed. He kissed the tip of his riding crop and he stroked his manhood as he did so.

   “Fuck you.” Kengo spat.

   “You wish.” Revolver countered.

   He glanced down at his boots and admired the sheen of the leather. Crisp, but no longer pristine. Revolver’s expression flickered briefly. He hefted his leg and found a foothold upon Kengo’s chest. He didn’t press down, not consciously and with effort anyway, but the post of his high heel dug into Kengo regardless.

   “Look what you did to my boot, you whore.” Revolver snapped. “You got it dirty. Lick it clean or that’s another three lashes.”

   To emphasise the punishment, Revolver struck his own boot. Not hard but enough for it to make a grand sound. The swift crack of leather on leather. It resounded not just in the air, but in their heads. Over and over. Revolver relished it; Kengo feared it.

   “Do it.” Revolver commanded, and he pressed down his heel a little harder.

   “Then move your goddamn foot off me then.” Kengo hissed.

   Revolver obliged Kengo but with a dour look behind the obscuring veil and mask he wore. Revolver lifted his foot off of Kengo and he breathed a little easier now. He placed it on the ground and Kengo sighed. He leaned in and closed his eyes. He began to lick at the leather and cum.

   Kengo’s tongue ran across the smooth material of Revolver’s boot. Revolver was aroused and disgusted all at once. He couldn’t believe it. He thought that his demand might have been met with more resistance but alas, Kengo was compliant. Revolver watched as Kengo, like a cat, licked at the streaks of ejaculate on the boot.

   It only took him a few minutes but soon, Revolver’s boot had been cleaned. Kengo removed his mouth, his face so pale against the harsh colour of the leather, and pleadingly looked up at Revolver. Revolver glared back; his erection still flagged.

   “Do you want me to clean anything else?” Kengo asked with a snarl caught in his voice; dripping with hatred.

   Revolver hiked up his boot again and his foot landed on the cranny of Kengo’s shoulder. He leaned back, the post of his high heels digging into the top of Kengo’s breast. Kengo’s brow twitched. A faint echo of pain; he was doing his best to resist showing just how sensitive his skin was, even beneath the mask of his blouse.

   “No, I’m good thank you.” Revolver said.

   He moved his boot again and this time, he showed much flexibility as his next foothold was on Kengo’s face. The post of his high heel entered Kengo’s mouth and he bit down on it. The toe of his boot was adjacent to Kengo’s nose. He was threatening to step down on him, but he hadn’t.

   “You disgust me. I can’t believe you did that. Your pathetic.” Revolver said, and the tune of his voice had changed rather harshly. “You talk tough but your just like any other dog. Your bark is bigger than your bite. And when you meet someone bigger and stronger, you submit. Tail between your legs. It’s pathetic, Kengo.”

   Kengo wanted nothing more than to scrub Revolver’s cocky mouth clean of his name. He hated it. He hated hearing his name in Revolver’s dirty mouth. He growled. The defiant noise bobbing up and down his throat as Revolver screwed around. His heel clinking against Kengo’s teeth. Threatening to do damage but none so far.

   “But at least we’re having fun, right?” Revolver said, and he jerked back.

   Kengo was silent. A glare in his eyes: hard as steel, but nothing else. A pitiful reaction even though Revolver knew from the way Kengo’s body was so stiff and unrelaxed. Revolver wanted more, and he knew that he could get more if he just kept picking at Kengo’s buttons.

   He crouched down and got in Kengo’s face. “You are having fun, aren’t you?” he asked. “I am. Because I love seeing you exactly where you should be. Deprived of your favourite things and beneath my boot.” Revolver drawled in a sweet voice.

   Then, to seal such a loving statement, Revolver pressed a kiss unto Kengo’s mouth. Kengo remained stern. Unfeeling and cold whilst Revolver kissed him through his veil that he wore. Revolver’s kiss was warm. Not necessarily fervent or amorous but there was a façade of good will atop it which disgusted Kengo.

   Kengo could taste the fabric as Revolver attempted to deepen the kiss. His tongue poking against the veil; he was careful not to disrupt it, he was trying to stuff it in Kengo’s mouth but Kengo was uncompromising. So, Revolver flicked the switch. He turned the vibrator on and Kengo exhaled sharply. Revolver continued to kiss Kengo but his mouth, once unfeeling, was now attempting to hide all reactions which were spurred on by the buzz of the vibrator. Unsatisfied with the kiss, as it had become messy due to Kengo’s scrambled prudence, Revolver drew back. But, the corners of his lips quirked as he eyed up Kengo as he still crouched before him.

   Kengo was unamused by Revolver. But his buttons had been pressed until he could take it no more. In his binds, without severance, Kengo had to find a different channel for his defiance. So, he hurled a glob of spit at Revolver’s face. Revolver did not bat an eye at it, but he wiped it off himself regardless. He wrung his hands of it and tutted.

   “Is that anyway to treat your Dom?” he asked.

   “You’re a bastard.” Kengo snarled.

   “You think I’m a bastard now? Darling, I’ve barely started.” Revolver said.

   He dropped the riding crop and he dropped to his knees. One hand went for Kengo’s throat; the other cupped the side of his face. Revolver’s left hand traced the rivets of Kengo’s burn scars. The other slowly clamped down across his neck.

   Kengo’s pulse throbbed within the vice grip Revolver’s hand had one him. He swallowed, and Revolver felt every movement and all it did was cause him to clamp down tighter. His own heart pounded as he was enthralled by the chokehold.

   Kengo, however, was nowhere near as enticed by the chokehold as Revolver was. He slowed his breathing as he felt Revolver’s fingers, like slabs of iron, slowly wreak havoc on him. His eyes watered whilst alarm took its adrenaline-filled swiftly through his body. Setting him on fire with emotions that he didn’t want.

   His cock twitched, and he sputtered. Kengo was aroused but not by choice. If he closed his eyes, he saw stars and other assorted, brightly coloured phosphenes which seemed so utterly out of place in his dull world. If he so much as winced, he saw double and he did not desire seeing anything more than one Revolver: so pertinent and aroused. Enjoying the affliction that he had upon Kengo.

   And yet, Revolver’s other hand was propelled not by violent eroticism, but something far kinder. His other hand entangled in Kengo’s hair. He stroked the pins in his hair and readjusted them. Tightening their grip on his scalp and assuring Revolver that they were secure. And reminding Kengo that he had been robbed of his most precious creature comfort of privacy.

   His fingers trailed down from Kengo’s scalp. His hair had been slightly greasy; unwashed by a day or two, perhaps. Revolver then turned to caress the side of Kengo’s face. His digits ghosting over the ridges raised on Kengo’s face because of his burn scars. Revolver held no romantic ideas regarding Kengo’s scars. He didn’t think they were beautiful, but they were something which solidified their connection. Their connection being mutual animosity for the enemy: artificial intelligence.

   “I adore you, Kengo,” Revolver purred as he continued to clamp down harder, “you are nothing but a delight. I respect you, even.”

   Kengo choked. He gagged as Revolver’s hand on his neck continued to throttle him so.

   “But it feels,” Revolver drawled, “that you have no respect for me. So, come now, prove to me that you can at least treat me right.”

   Revolver finally let go. Kengo breathed deeply. Relief saturated his expression; his guard dropped ever so slightly. His head hurt but there was more to it than that. He felt light-headed, but it was twisted with something else, other effects of being choked. Dizziness, perhaps as it felt like the room – the dungeon – was moving ever so slightly to the right and to the right; around and around. Kengo glared at Revolver. His good arm jerked about, friction against the restraints that it was bound to. His knees were beginning to ache. He didn’t feel old mentally but right now, he did physically.

   Revolver clicked his tongue. He admired the strangulate marks which he had left behind. He had no doubt in his mind that Kengo loathed them, but he thought they were lovely. The pink-purple echoes of his hand on Kengo’s neck. They would make for wonderful bruises very soon and Revolver was extremely fond of Kengo having such reminders on his skin; even if they weren’t shown to the world because of his detestable scarf but Revolver would know. And he could be satisfied with that.

   But first, he had to get Kengo to submit to him. To prove to him that he respected him. Revolver licked his lips. He was enticed by such an idea and though there was a sense of calm in his demeanour, his lust would soon prove to a rabid contrary.

   He lifted himself from the ground. His movements were slow. Deceptively so and then he struck. He grabbed Kengo hair in violent fistfuls. He yelped as Revolver pulled him closer. Kengo’s nose scraped against Revolver’s cock as Revolver tried, like a puppet master would try, to control Kengo.

   “Suck my dick.” Revolver commanded.

   Kengo huffed and panted but he opened his mouth for Revolver. Revolver slowly let go of his hair. The taut pain across the back of his scalp slowly subsided as he somewhat willingly latched his mouth onto Revolver’s cock. Still, he felt Revolver’s fingers in between the whorls of his hair. Ghosting, reminding him that at a moment’s notice, if Kengo displeased him, he would likely do something forceful in retaliation.

   Revolver’s cock was hard. Unnaturally so which supported Kengo’s theory that Revolver had had the good sense to take some pills for that. Now, if only he had the good sense to learn how to properly choke someone out but Kengo realised that Revolver relished the violence; not the practicality.

   Revolver cooed, in grotesque and lusty farce, whilst Kengo sucked him off. His fingers remained crumpled in Kengo’s hair. Revolver relaxed and slowly tilted his head back. He closed his eyes to the rhythm of Kengo’s tongue on his slit. He was awkward and stilted, but revolver enjoyed it. He enjoyed the power over it.

   Especially when he had the brilliant idea of rewarding Kengo for his compliance. Revolver toyed with the remote again. Kengo must have noticed because Revolver could feel teeth on his skin. A threat but Revolver was confident in his analysis of Kengo: he was just all bark. All threats with no substance. So, he almost joyously, thumbed over and switched it on; completely bypassing the lower settings and going straight for the hardest.

   Kengo groaned. His voice reverberated on Revolver’s skin and his shoulders drooped. It was a lewd melody unto his ears as he thrusted into Kengo’s mouth. Complaining for more and more so Kengo began to choke.

   “Harder.” Revolver growled.

   Kengo then, pointedly, chose to do anything but. His mouth curled back, skimming around Revolver’s cockhead. Revolver looked down and a deep scowl crossed his face. His domino mask folding; his shimmering veil doing nothing to beautify his grimace. His fingers dug in and he yanked Kengo closer to him. Kengo was choked out again as Revolver forced his cock further down his mouth. Kengo sputtered. Protests were garbled but Revolver liked the sound of Kengo attempting his best as he began to thrust into his mouth.

   Revolver was frantic with ectasy as he continued to thrust into Kengo’s mouth. He strained his ears for every note in Kengo’s throat as he tried to reject Revolver’s cock. All the same, he fought back: sucking hard. Anything for release from the scene. If such a thing as this could be called a scene at all.

   Kengo swallowed bile. It bit at the back of his throat as his mouth was assailed by Revolver. It was a caustic, arsenic taste as he had no other choice but to comply with how Revolver shoved his cock down his throat. He licked over Revolver’s slit which had begun to produce pre-cum.

   As had his own erection. In between being taken from his mouth, he was of course being anally penetrated by that device that Revolver had set inside of him. Its buzzing had become such a constant, as wild as it was, that he had grown to ignore it, but his body hadn’t. It reacted just as it ought to such a stimulus. Finding pleasuring it.

   In his head, Revolver was pounded by a primal desire for lust. His ears rung, and he was overcome by his need for a resolution. With his cock down Kengo’s mouth, he knew he could get himself there, even if he had to force Kengo. His body grew hot and his breathing heavy. He was aflame with his desire and he could feel it pulsate inside of him. It twisted through him with bullet-like precision, coursing through him as his thrusting grew all the more erratic in his need for conquest and release.

   Revolver panted, and he held tightly onto Kengo but his grip had slackened. He moaned. Part of it sounded faked, part of it sounded too content to be true but regardless, the noise he made was long and drawn out; drenched in saccharine pleasure. He came. And he came hard.

   Kengo gagged on bile and cum. It was hot in his mouth. Messy and awful. He attempted to swallow but that aggravated the oral, sensory input. He coughed and sputtered. Cum and spittle flecked his lips. His eyes watered as Revolver finally, slowly, drew back. A line of saliva connected his cockhead and Kengo’s plump lips.

   Kengo panted. He came. His release was perhaps more docile in comparison to Revolver’s. An echo, perhaps. The simple reaction of his body. The stimulus had brought him to his brink, but he gained no satisfaction from it. He shivered. His ejaculate had once more splattered across Revolver’s boots and he hoped that he wouldn’t have to suffer another penalty for ruining them like he had before.

   “You look good like that.” Revolver said, chuffed. “You make such a good slut.”

   He looked like he had been decimated by the act. His had been utterly dishevelled by it. the pins that Revolver had put in his hair had gone astray and had been eschewed for better or worse. Finally, his fringe returned to haunt his eyes and cover his scar.

   Revolver slowly knelt down in front of Kengo. His erection dragged, turned flaccid. He pushed aside Kengo’s hair and he squirmed away from him. Revolver did not shy away from him. Revolver turned off the vibrator and Kengo sighed a sigh of relief. Revolver’s lips quirked and his hand, once he had set down the remote, hovered near the hemline of Kengo’s shirt.

   His hand slowly crept up from the final rib at the base of his ribcage. Slowly searching upwards with ghosting fingertips. Finding the scars further up his chest. Kengo bucked though. Refuting Revolver’s touches. They were gradual and soft now, but he had no doubt that they would turn soon.

   But instead, Revolver ripped his hand away from him. He pressed another kiss onto Kengo’s mouth and Kengo refused. Again. He took no offence and with his hand, no longer exploring underneath Kengo’s shirt, took to unknotting the sleeve. He broke off the kiss once his attention was too divided. He then used Kengo’s cuff to wipe off some of the cum.

   “Your dismissed.” Revolver told him.

   “Then un-fucking-tie me.” Kengo snapped.

   Revolver sighed. He used a note of voice which made it seem as though Kengo was being unreasonable, but he obliged. He got up and no longer did he have that sexual swagger in his step. Revolver removed the vibrator first, with a pinch and Kengo moaned. Revolver clicked his tongue, amused, then removed the restraints from Kengo’s ankles and his wrist.

   After that, Revolver was satisfied. He didn’t even so much as say goodbye. He took his stuff with him and left as he had come. When the door opened, the light which streamed in, briefly, was blinding.

   Kengo, however, was infuriated. He felt neither satisfaction nor gratification. Worse still, he didn’t even know that bastard’s real name. He knew everything about him, down the most minute detail, and Kengo couldn’t even demask him as anyone but Revolver, leader of the Knights of Hanoi.

   At least, he consolidated with himself over it, he could finally rearrange his fringe the way he wanted. 


End file.
